The Seduction of Innocence
by Linndechir
Summary: Zaknafein finds himself becoming seduced by Drizzt's innocence, but his inability to come to terms with his feelings leaves Drizzt in a state of confusion.
1. Chapter One

A/N: I think it is obvious that this is not going to be a happy story, and you all know how it ends. It's Zaknafein/Drizzt-slash, just to warn those who think this pairing is disturbing. I like this pairing very much, and there aren't nearly enough stories about Zak and Drizzt. ;)  
Thanks to my beta-reader Chi, who makes my life much easier.

* * *

**Chapter One**

Drizzt slowly opened his eyes, his vision still blurred. His head hurt, and his bottom lip was split. It took him a few seconds to become fully conscious, and he realised only then that he wasn't lying on the floor of the training hall anymore, but on a real bed. It had been months since he had slept in a bed, and even his bed as page prince had been less comfortable than this one.

Confused, Drizzt looked around to see Zaknafein sitting on the bed - it was so big that the Weapon Master didn't even touch his student. The young drow began to realise where he was: Zaknafein's personal rooms, a place he usually wasn't allowed to go. Zaknafein had forbidden it on the first day, and even Drizzt wasn't insolent or stupid enough to break this rule.

He propped himself up on his arms to look around, but that made his headache only worse.

"You'd better lay still," he heard Zaknafein's deep voice, thick with amusement.

"Thanks for your advice, I would never have thought of that myself," Drizzt retorted, but his tone was less bold than usual. Lying on his back, he could only see Zaknafein's legs and his right hand, resting on his knee. The hand that was responsible for his headache.

Drizzt tried to remember why Zaknafein had knocked him out this time - the Weapon Master punished even the slightest misconduct with a slap, but this one had been particularly violent. He was still too dizzy to recall the exact wording, but it had been some insolent remark about his mother. Sometimes Drizzt wondered if Zaknafein actually liked Malice - he insisted so much that Drizzt should be careful what he said about her.

Zaknafein was suddenly sliding closer to him, and Drizzt flinched when the Weapon Master's hand neared his face. Stubborn or not, he couldn't take another blow right now. But Zaknafein just dabbed the blood off Drizzt's lips, using a soft cloth that had already a few blood spots on it.

Drizzt narrowed his eyes, not quite understanding what was happening. Zaknafein usually just waited for him to wake up, hauled him on his feet and continued their lesson - and if Drizzt was too dizzy, Zaknafein would simply leave him while he was unconscious. But now he had brought Drizzt to his room and even took care of him.

Despite his last words, Zaknafein suddenly helped Drizzt to sit up. He took a small cup from his nightstand and brought it closer to Drizzt's lips, but the young drow turned his head away.

"What is that? It smells horrible," he complained, realising too late that his protest could easily earn him another slap.

But Zaknafein just scowled and turned Drizzt's head back, forcing him to drink half of the foul-smelling potion before he released him and put the cup back. Drizzt coughed and cast Zaknafein angry glares, but he couldn't deny that his headache was beginning to fade after only a few minutes.

"Better?" Zaknafein asked after a while, grinning at him.

"My lip still hurts," Drizzt said, pouting, but he was looking around in the room, not at his tutor. It was quite big and luxurious - there would be enough space for both of them, and that made Drizzt even more indignant over the fact that he had to sleep on the floor of the training hall. But he was too comfortable in the bed to complain about that now; he didn't want Zaknafein to throw him out.

He suddenly felt a strong hand on his chest, opening the laces of his shirt. Drizzt's gaze immediately returned to Zaknafein, who was sitting beside him, much closer than before. Zaknafein was looking at him with an expression Drizzt had already seen once or twice, when the Weapon Master had thought he wasn't looking at him, but it had never been so intense. It made him shiver, but he wasn't sure if it was out of fear or excitement.

"Maybe I have a solution for that problem, too," Zaknafein whispered, his voice rougher than usual. Before Drizzt could answer, he felt Zaknafein's lips on his, kissing him tenderly. It made the little wound just burn more, but it was nonetheless far from uncomfortable. Drizzt couldn't remember that Zaknafein - or anyone else - had ever touched him so tenderly. He moaned when Zaknafein's hand moved under his shirt and started to caress his smooth skin with a gentleness Drizzt had thought Zaknafein incapable of. The Weapon Master had always been nicer than anyone else he knew, but he had never shown any real affection for him.

Drizzt started to smile when Zaknafein's lips slid over his cheek and throat, gently kissing and nibbling on the skin. He definitely liked what was happening, although it confused him.

"You're beautiful, do you know that?" Zaknafein murmured softly, lying down beside him.

Drizzt just stared at him, wide-eyed. No one had ever said that to him, no one had ever said anything about his looks, except Vierna when she had scolded him because his clothes were dirty. It made his heart beat faster to hear that he was beautiful - and even more to hear it from Zaknafein, who was, to Drizzt's mind, as beautiful as a drow could be. Certainly more beautiful than his sisters in their robes with those horrible spider stitchings.

He wanted to reply, but he was silenced by another kiss. Zaknafein didn't seem to be very interested in whatever he had to say. For once, Drizzt couldn't say that this bothered him.

Soon enough, he felt dazed again, but in a pleasant way. Zaknafein's hands worked wonders on his body, knowing exactly how to touch him to make him unable of clear thought. Drizzt tried to return these caresses, but he felt horribly clumsy. He gave it up rather quickly, just digging his fingers in the sheets and hoping that Zaknafein wouldn't stop.

* * *

Zaknafein contemplated the young drow closely, and a faint smile crept on his lips. Drizzt was indeed beautiful, in his sleep even more than when he was awake. The three months of training had already started to shape his slender body into a warrior's, and his skin was perfectly smooth. His face was not only pretty, but also completely innocent, calm, untroubled. Drizzt was snuggling against Zaknafein in his reverie, trusting as if he had nothing to worry about.

It hurt him that this unspoilt child would soon enough become a drow warrior like all the others Zaknafein had trained. At the Academy, if not earlier, he would learn what Menzoberranzan was really like: that he could trust no one, and that the most prudent thing to do when he was allowed in his Weapon Master's bed was to kill him, not to sleep.

Yes, Zaknafein could try to convince himself that Drizzt was different. He _was_ different, otherwise Zaknafein would have never allowed him to stay in his bed when he had been finished with him. But even Drizzt couldn't resist the influence of drow society forever - and Zaknafein wouldn't be able to protect him forever.

The thought made him angry. He didn't want to imagine Drizzt as a heartless drow warrior, as a liar and traitor who killed others for his pleasure or his thirst for power. For a moment, he thought about waking Drizzt up immediately and telling him about everything he had seen in four centuries in Menzoberranzan. If he destroyed Drizzt's naivete right now, he wouldn't have to look into those innocent eyes any longer. Those eyes that made him want to kiss and caress him, to coax this happy smile out of him.

He pushed Drizzt away from him, barely retaining the urge to slap him. To his surprise, the young drow didn't wake up, but just stirred a little bit. He mumbled something in his sleep and reached out with one hand, searching for the closeness and warmth of Zaknafein's body.

Zaknafein growled angrily, but then he halted. It touched him that Drizzt slept so deeply that he didn't wake up after this rough push. Every normal drow would probably have awakened immediately and grabbed a dagger to defend himself, but Drizzt just begged to return into his arms.

Zaknafein shoved Drizzt almost to the edge of the bed before he lay down again, out of the younger drow's reach. He couldn't bring himself to do this, not now. He turned his back to Drizzt, not wanting to see his face anymore. It took him some time to calm down enough to continue his reverie.

* * *

The first thing Drizzt thought when he woke up in the morning was that something was missing. He realised what it was when he opened his eyes and saw Zaknafein, still sleeping, on the other side of the bed, turning his back to him.

Drizzt pouted. He was cold and a bit sore, and he felt alone. Supposing that Zaknafein had just turned around in his reverie, Drizzt crawled closer to him. He just wanted to nuzzle against Zaknafein's back. The Weapon Master sensed him, spun around and grabbed his throat. He released him after a few seconds, but this violent reaction had been enough to shock Drizzt.

"It's only you," Zaknafein grumbled, snorting angrily. "Why in the Abyss did you wake me up?"

Drizzt was too taken aback to answer. After the last night, he hadn't expected to hear harsh, unfriendly words from his tutor ever again. Naked and facing Zaknafein's anger, he felt suddenly very vulnerable.

"Get up and prepare for your training," the Weapon Master growled when he didn't get any answer. He seemed very annoyed, and Drizzt could feel that Zaknafein was in a particularly bad mood - one of these moods that made him beat up Drizzt for no apparent reason. But the young drow was too hurt by this rejection to be reasonable and obey.

"But I want to stay with you a little longer. You said I could stay," he argued weakly. "And I'm sore and too tired to train."

"Ungrateful brat!"

Zaknafein didn't leave Drizzt enough time to answer to this, he simply got up and grabbed a handful of his thick hair, virtually dragging him from the bed and out of the room. He released Drizzt in the training hall and returned to his room, slamming the door.

Drizzt sobbed quietly and crawled to the corner of the room where he kept his things. He quickly put on fresh clothes, not wanting to still be naked when Zaknafein came back.

He tried to understand why the Weapon Master had thrown him out. Had he done anything wrong? Was Zaknafein angry because Drizzt had not been able to return his caresses with equal skill? But Zaknafein should know that nobody else had ever touched Drizzt like that ... and he had still been nice to him at the end of the evening. It was only in the morning that Zaknafein had become violent, without any understandable reason.

Drizzt tried to hold back his tears, but he couldn't. It wasn't the first time that Zaknafein had beaten and insulted him, he did it fairly often, actually, but after the last night, it was far more painful. After Zaknafein had been so tender to him, whispering words that were so sweet and affectionate that Drizzt had blushed at every one of them, he couldn't stand to be mistreated again.

The young drow winced when the door of Zaknafein's room opened again. The Weapon Master had dressed again and was drawing his swords as soon as he entered the training hall. Drizzt quickly grabbed his scimitars and got on his feet, just in time to block the first attack.

"I'm sorry, Zak," he whimpered, retreating under Zaknafein's relentless blows. "I didn't want to make you angry. I don't know what I have done, but I am sorry."

Zaknafein just sneered and pressed him even harder, and Drizzt could, as tired as he was, hardly keep up with him.

"Shut up and concentrate, you fool!" the Weapon Master growled when the young drow opened his mouth again and at the same time almost failed to fend off the next attack.

Drizzt's eyes hardened when he heard these words, and he bit on his bottom lip, determined not to show Zaknafein any more how hurt he was. If he hadn't had to concentrate on the Weapon Master's whirling blades, he might have seen the sad, pained expression in Zaknafein's eyes.


	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

Drizzt sat in his corner of the training hall. His posture was rather awkward because his whole body hurt from a long day's training. His eyes were fixed on the door of Zaknafein's rooms. It had been closed since the Weapon Master had gone there after the training, und only opened when a servant had brought him his meal and taken the dishes away later. Drizzt had got his meal, too, but he hadn't touched any of it. He knew that he should eat to gather his strength, but he was feeling sick and strangely detached from his body.

Drizzt wondered what Zaknafein would do tonight, whether he would leave him alone or require his company. And even more importantly, Drizzt wondered what he wanted to happen. What the Weapon Master had done to him in the previous night had felt wonderful, and somehow Drizzt longed to be close to him again. He had felt safe in Zaknafein's arms - but he was afraid of what had happened afterwards. He did not know if he should hope for another night of tenderness and pleasure, or if he should hope that Zaknafein stayed away from him and therefore wouldn't hurt him again.

When the door suddenly opened, Drizzt flinched. Zaknafein was quickly coming towards him; unlike Drizzt, the Weapon Master had obviously made up his mind. Drizzt got up, glimpsing insecurely at his tutor. What he saw made him back up immediately: there was no gentleness, not even amusement in Zaknafein's eyes, only violence and need, like a distorted echo of the tenderness he had shown the night before.

"Zaknafein, please ... please tell me at least how I have angered you before you punish me for it," Drizzt pleaded. He was too shocked and frightened to fight back when Zaknafein grabbed his arm and pushed him down on his bedroll. Before Drizzt could get up again, the Weapon Master was over him, straddling him and holding his wrists.

"You're too innocent for this hell, Drizzt, that will only get you in trouble," Zaknafein hissed, his tone somewhere between pained and sarcastic. "It drives me insane!"

He kissed him brutally, drawing blood when he bit on Drizzt's already wounded bottom lip.

"You are already insane!" Drizzt sobbed when Zaknafein broke the kiss. "How can you do this to me? You are even worse than the other drow!"

"Shut up!" Zaknafein was losing his temper. He couldn't stand these accusations; he knew he wouldn't be able to go through with this if Drizzt kept talking. Hoping to silence the young drow, he slapped him in the face. Drizzt whimpered, but he didn't fall silent.

"You are worse than the priestesses! Not even they do things like this to me!" he retorted, as stubborn as always. He didn't know that these were probably the most inappropriate words he could say to Zaknafein in this situation. The Weapon Master laughed coldly, suddenly more bitter than angry.

"Ah, but they will, Drizzt, they will," he promised, and he used his student's confused silence to kiss him again. Ignoring his struggle he started to rip off Drizzt's shirt, letting his fingers slide over the smooth skin, but there was no tenderness in his touches. In his current fit of madness, of anger, of desperation, he was deaf to Drizzt's pleading, to the pang of guilt somewhere deep inside him. If he had been more sensible at this moment, he too would have wondered how he could bring himself to do this to the young drow he had come to like, even to love so much.

A sudden knock on the door saved Drizzt. Zaknafein jumped up immediately and walked quickly towards the door to open it himself - an unusual behaviour, but he didn't want anyone to see Drizzt half-naked and trembling on the floor. A servant stood before him, staring at his boots - Zaknafein was radiating anger, and his violent temper was almost legendary.

"It had better be important," Zaknafein growled in a dangerously low voice.

"Matron Malice requires your presence, Weapon Master. Immediately," the servant stammered and retreated as quickly as possible.

Zaknafein cursed, but he knew that he had no choice. He knew better than to keep Malice waiting. Before leaving he turned a last time around and looked at Drizzt. His voice was suddenly soft, although bitter, when he said, "Go to sleep, Drizzt. I won't be back before morning."

He was gone before Drizzt could answer.

* * *

Drizzt didn't know how, but he managed to fall asleep rather quickly once Zaknafein had left. He was even more exhausted than he was nervous and scared. Zaknafein was acting more and more strangely, and Drizzt didn't even want to imagine how it would have felt if the Weapon Master had taken by force what he had got through seduction last time. Drizzt couldn't understand it - why hadn't Zaknafein just been tender? Drizzt would have given him willingly everything he wanted. There had been no need for Zaknafein to force and beat him. Drizzt's thoughts were going in circles until reverie brought them to rest.

He woke up when Zaknafein came back, probably several hours later. Drizzt tried to hide under his covers, as if this would make the Weapon Master forget his presence. Yet he knew that it was hopeless. Zaknafein would take what he wanted, if not now then later. Still, Drizzt winced when he glimpsed at his mentor. He knew he should be angry with Zaknafein, but concern filled him when he saw how tired the Weapon Master looked. His usually so graceful movements were slow and spoke of considerable pain.

What had Malice done to him? Drizzt didn't know what kind of strange relationship she and Zaknafein had, but he knew that his teacher was usually just angry when he came back from her quarters. But now, he looked almost ... broken.

"Come with me," Zaknafein said weakly, interrupting Drizzt's shocked brooding. He didn't look at the young drow and just entered his own room. His tired voice made Drizzt forget his anger and fear, as well as his confused thoughts about Zaknafein's behaviour. All he could think about was that Zaknafein needed him now, and Drizzt certainly wouldn't let him down. He stood up immediately and followed him.

Drizzt gasped once he had closed the door behind himself and turned to look at Zaknafein. The Weapon Master was taking his shirt off, exposing his back. Drizzt himself had been beaten in his childhood, but never like this. Zaknafein's back was just one bloody wound, and what bit of skin was left was hardly visible under the blood.

The young drow was frozen where he stood, incapable of understanding what he saw. While he could comprehend that Vierna had beaten him as a punishment - even if it had often seemed unjust to him - he couldn't understand how someone would go so far in a beating. Zaknafein obviously had broken some important rule, committed a horrible crime, if he had been punished so severely.

Zaknafein was taking a small bottle out of a locker, quickly drinking its content. It was a potent healing potion, for the wounds on his back and on his arms started to close immediately, and Zaknafein's features relaxed a bit. He sat down on his bed, running a hand through his hair, which was stringy from sweat. Then he finally looked at Drizzt with a sad smile on his tired face.

Accepting the unspoken invitation, Drizzt sat down beside him, but he maintained a wary distance. However, he felt almost bad for his caution when he heard Zaknafein's next words.

"I am sorry, Drizzt. I wouldn't hurt you, I couldn't," Zaknafein said with a desperate, appalled gleam in his eyes, tenderly stroking Drizzt's cheek. "I was ... I don't know what I was thinking ... I'm not like them, you know that."

A more experienced person would have recognised Zaknafein's confusion as another sign of his madness, but Drizzt saw only what he wanted to see: remorse and sadness, and he was all too ready to forgive his tutor.

"It's alright. I believe you if you say it won't happen again," Drizzt said with an open, even naive smile. "Let me help you, yes?"

Without waiting for an answer, Drizzt fetched a bowl with warm water and a soft cloth to wash the dried blood off Zaknafein's sore body. The Weapon Master looked a bit more relaxed once Drizzt had finished, and gingerly lay down on the bed. After a moment of hesitation, Drizzt nuzzled against him, resting his head on Zaknafein's chest.

"What happened?" he asked shyly after a while.

"What do you think happened? She was in a foul mood, so she beat me up even more before and after she took me," Zaknafein snorted, without even thinking about his words. Yet he regretted them immediately when he saw Drizzt's innocent eyes widen in shock.

"Forget what I said," he whispered in a softer voice, placing tender kisses on Drizzt's face. "Let's not talk about her, nor about any other female. It's just us now, you and me."

His eyes were so tender that Drizzt couldn't believe that this was the same man who had threatened to rape him only hours ago. No, he decided, that hadn't been Zaknafein. Zaknafein wouldn't do this, Zaknafein was a good, kind person. He turned violent sometimes, yes, but that had to be Malice's fault if she treated him like that. She was the wrongdoer, not Zaknafein. Drizzt managed to convince himself that the previous evening had been an exception, something that would not happen again. It was easy to believe, lying in Zaknafein's arms, enjoying his soft caresses.

"I need to sleep. You can stay with me, I won't send you away," Zaknafein promised, remembering all too well how hurt Drizzt had looked after being thrown out. "I want you to be with me."

Drizzt just beamed at him, his eyes full of admiration and love. This was _his_ Zaknafein, the only Zaknafein he would remember years and decades later whenever he thought of his father.


	3. Chapter Three

A/N: This chapter is set just after the last scene with Drizzt and Zak before Drizzt goes to the Academy. You know, the sparring match and then the big dispute (it's chapter 11 in Homeland). I just added another scene that took place that night.  
There will be one more chapter, set after Drizzt's return from the Academy.

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Chapter Three

Drizzt had thought for a moment about leaving the training hall, but where should he go? The last thing he would want now was to see his brother or one of his sisters. No, in the training hall he was at least alone - Zaknafein was still in his private chambers, where he had gone after their dispute, but Drizzt doubted that he would see his mentor again before he left for the Academy in the morning.

The young drow was completely confused. He had looked forward to this last sparring match with his teacher, but everything had turned out differently. Zaknafein had been so changed, so bitter, so angry. Drizzt was unable to reconcile all these different parts of Zaknafein's character that he had seen in their time together.

Before this dispute, he had loved him, although he wouldn't know the word for it. Zaknafein had kept his promise and never again tried to brutalise him after this one night, where only Malice's call had kept him from raping Drizzt. He had obviously been appalled by his own behaviour that night, for he had been so much gentler in the morning, upon his return.

After that, their relationship had settled down more and more to a bizarre routine. During their training sessions, Zaknafein was the same as before: strict and severe whenever it came to criticising Drizzt's technique, violent when his student became too impertinent, and yet still with a slight smile or grin on his features that reminded Drizzt that Zaknafein was different from the other drow.

Their nights were unpredictable, and they were the major reason for Drizzt's confusion. Zaknafein never touched him when he was angry, he never really hurt Drizzt. A few times, Drizzt had seen Zaknafein leave in the evening, not only when he was summoned by Matron Malice. Drizzt was not sure, but somehow he had the suspicion that Zaknafein would go and vent his frustrations on someone else the way he had almost done it with Drizzt that one night.

Zaknafein only took Drizzt to his bedchambers when he was halfway good-humoured, and Drizzt usually enjoyed those nights. His mentor could be incredibly tender and caring, attentive to Drizzt's desires and needs. Sometimes, though, Zaknafein seemed to lose control over himself. He suddenly got more brutal, or he threw Drizzt out afterwards - but he never truly hurt him. Drizzt doubted that he could love Zaknafein if the Weapon Master had ever done _that_ to him.

But what should he think now? Had this dispute not been the proof that Zaknafein was no better than other drow? That Zaknafein did not really love him? Drizzt only wanted to see him again, wanted to hear that Zaknafein had just been angry for some reason, but that he hadn't meant to hurt Drizzt. He knew, though, that it wasn't true. Zaknafein had been playing with him all the time.

The young drow sighed and slumped on his bedroll. He doubted that he would ever lie in Zaknafein's arms again, trusting him wholeheartedly. Zaknafein didn't want him anymore, and if it was true that the Weapon Master was such a ruthless killer, then Drizzt didn't want him either.

Still, he felt alone, lying in the big, silent training hall. He was afraid of going to the Academy on the next day, and he would have given everything for a last night with the only person he had trusted until then, the only person who had ever shown him any affection at all.

Therefore Drizzt could not help but lift his head in anticipation when he heard the door of Zaknafein's room opening. He sat up on his bedroll, looking at his mentor with uncertainty and yet with a faint hope. Maybe Zaknafein would apologise, or at least act as if everything was all right?

One glimpse at Zaknafein's face showed him that nothing like this would happen. The Weapon Master's face was a cold mask. His eyes were gleaming in barely retained anger, and his whole body radiated tenseness and aggressiveness.

Slowly, almost like a predator who was playing with his prey, Zaknafein stalked towards him, and a strangely distorted smile appeared on his lips, yet it did not reach his eyes.

"You know, Drizzt, there is one last thing I should show you before you go to the Academy," Zaknafein said in a perfectly calm voice. "I wouldn't want you to be unprepared for your first night."

The Weapon Master suddenly lunged at him, and within seconds he was kneeling over Drizzt, holding him down with his weight and giving him a lewd stare.

"You have ... you have already shown that to me, Zaknafein," Drizzt stammered, unsure how to react. This was certainly not what he would have expected on their last evening. "And I don't want to do this with some stranger at the Academy."

"You don't? Such a pity," Zaknafein taunted. "I'm afraid you won't have a choice. With your pretty face, your instructors and the elder students will be all over you. And I assure you - they won't be as gentle as I have been."

Zaknafein licked his lips, and he ran a hand through Drizzt's hair, but there was no tenderness in this caress.

"You should better get used to the pain as quickly as possible. They won't bother to take care of your desires."

His voice had dropped to a dangerous whisper, and the almost feverish gleam in his eyes betrayed too well that Zaknafein was determined to do what he thought necessary. Drizzt shook his head and tried to scramble away, but his mentor was far heavier and stronger than he was, and his struggling seemed to do nothing but amuse Zaknafein.

"Zak, please. You can't do this to me. You said you cared for me," Drizzt pleaded, hoping that he could still reach the more gentle Zaknafein he knew to be somewhere inside this lunatic. He remembered too well the last time Zaknafein had been looming over him like this, with this mixture of uncontrolled lust and madness in his eyes, and yet he refused to believe that Zaknafein would try this again.

"Oh, but I do, Drizzt, I do. That's why I'm sparing you the embarrassment of being shocked like an innocent child when one of your teachers decides to use you as his toy," Zaknafein chuckled, as if this idea was highly amusing. Drizzt's next words were stifled by a brutal kiss, while Zaknafein's hands already found their way under Drizzt's clothing.

The young drow continued to struggle, trying to push Zaknafein away from him, but the Weapon Master was too strong, too nimble, too quick. Drizzt whimpered and pleaded, but he was unable to stop Zaknafein, who undressed both of them with the efficiency of a man who had done this countless times before.

There would be no pleasure for Drizzt this time, only agonising pain and humiliation. And in this night, nobody came to call Zaknafein away from him, nothing happened that could possibly save Drizzt.

* * *

Zaknafein stood on one of the balconies of the mansion, staring down at the courtyard. He could see Drizzt, standing near Dinin with a hardened expression on his face, while Vierna was talking with Malice. Briza, Maya and Rizzen were standing a bit apart, and although the Weapon Master's absence at this quite important moment for the House had certainly not remained unnoticed, nobody had come to fetch him yet.

He watched silently when Vierna, Dinin and Drizzt finally left, accompanied by a little group of drow fighters. Soldiers Zaknafein had trained. Ruthless killers, just like Drizzt would soon be.

With a pained gasp Zaknafein turned around even before the little band had gone out of sight. He quickly returned to his personal chambers and locked the door, hoping that Malice would show him - for once in her life - some mercy and leave him alone. Or that she would simply find something else to do than torture her former companion.

Zaknafein undressed immediately and went back to bed, despite the fact that it was still early and that he had only just got up to watch his children leave. He had put one of the house's veteran soldiers in charge of the training in the morning, so that he would have a few hours for himself.

Zaknafein needed them. He had gone through with his plan last night, doing to Drizzt what someone else would probably be doing as well this evening. In a way, he was still convinced that he had done the right thing - there would have been no point in spoiling Drizzt, in continuing to be gentle. The change once he had gone to the Academy would have been even more painful that way. Zaknafein probably should have broken Drizzt much earlier.

And yet he hated himself for what he had done. He could still hear Drizzt's pleading and crying, the pain and confusion in his soft voice, so different from Zaknafein's own. He could still see Drizzt's shivering body underneath him, his skin covered with sweat and blood. But most of all, he couldn't forget the expression of disappointment and reproach in Drizzt's eyes.

All this had pained Zaknafein even then, but he had ignored his feelings and his conscience - and in the state of madness he had been in, that had not been too difficult. But now he wondered how he had been able to mistreat Drizzt so badly.

Had Drizzt not been right? Was it not true that Zaknafein was no better than other drow? True, he killed to survive, but nothing had forced him to rape Drizzt, except his own fury. And the worst thing was maybe that he had, in a sick way, still enjoyed it. Despite the weak voice of his conscience that had tried to hold him back, his violent side, that got so often the better of him, had revelled in this arousing mixture of power and lust. Some insane part of him had even enjoyed the idea of breaking Drizzt, of taking away the innocence that Zaknafein himself had lost so long ago.

The Weapon Master coiled up in his bed, drawing the covers over him. He realised that he felt guilty - a feeling he had suppressed for most of his life, knowing that it would drive him entirely insane, but now he was unable to shut it out. It was eating away at him, tormenting him, filling him with even more hatred for a world that had not let him love Drizzt the way he should have.

The fact that he would never get a chance to make up for it took away whatever bit of comfort or hope he might have found otherwise. Drizzt would either keep his innocence and honesty and therefore die at the Academy, or he would lose everything that Zaknafein loved in him. Even if Drizzt returned, he would not want to hear an apology. He would not want to return into Zaknafein's arms and to the tenderness they had shared for a while.

Zaknafein couldn't blame him. He did not deserve forgiveness. As much as he would love to lie to himself, he couldn't deny that he would do it again. That he would enjoy it again.

He knew that he had already lost the kindness and goodness Drizzt still possessed centuries ago. And he knew that it was probably better that way. For both of them.


	4. Chapter Four

A/N: Here's the last chapter. It is set after Drizzt's return from the Academy (you know, the fight and then Drizzt telling Zak that he didn't kill the elf child and the big father-son moment). Maybe I will write an epilogue, but I'm not entirely sure about that yet. Oh, by the way - reviews are nice. I like reviews. If nobody reviews I get frustrated. I'd rather have you yell at me because you didn't like a chapter than get no feedback at all. So ... please?

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**Chapter Four**

Zaknafein watched Drizzt put away his weapons while he sheathed his own swords. He smiled, but there was something sad about his expression. He knew that he and Drizzt would never escape this hell, but as the young drow had said, they were no longer alone.

The Weapon Master walked over to a small locker next to the weapons rack and pulled out a little bottle. He quickly drank the healing potion, sighing happily when he felt his crushed nose heal. They had both minor cuts and scratches, but those would heal on their own.

Zaknafein quickly closed the distance between them and pulled Drizzt once again to his chest.

"My son," he whispered again, words he had wanted to say so often and never dared to. He was stroking Drizzt's back, his face buried in the younger drow's hair.

"Father," Drizzt said hesitantly. The word sounded unfamiliar to himself, and yet so comforting. Zaknafein only let go of him after several minutes and looked at him with such relief and tenderness that Drizzt almost kissed him right then and there.

"I can hardly believe that you survived despite everything you must have been through. What did they do to you?" Zaknafein asked, his fingers combing through Drizzt's hair.

"Everything you told me they would do, and worse," Drizzt answered, and the happiness was now replaced by pain and sadness. Zaknafein turned away from him.

He thought of the last night before Drizzt had left, ten years ago, How could his son even look at him anymore, how could he forgive him? Zaknafein was ashamed of himself, disgusted. For the past ten years he had told himself that it made no difference, that _his_ Drizzt was dead anyway, that raping Drizzt was no different from raping any other of his students. But now he saw that his son had survived, and Zaknafein felt as if he had hurt him for nothing. There was no excuse for what he had done, and yet here Drizzt was.

Zaknafein looked up, his eyes hesitantly finding Drizzt's again.

"I am ... I did not really want to hurt you, Drizzt. You know that I care, that I have always cared. I just wanted ... I needed ..." Zaknafein had no idea what he was saying, It had been so long since he had last felt guilty, and he had never learnt how to cope with guilt. He expected Drizzt to push him away, to yell at him, to condemn him, at least to demand a justification.

But Drizzt only put his right index on Zaknafein's lips and shook his head.

"Don't talk about it," he whispered, almost pleaded. "I don't want to remember it. I know you are not like my masters at the Academy, you are different. Like me. And that one night before I left ... that wasn't like you. It wasn't your fault."

Zaknafein smiled sadly. Forgiveness. It should feel good, it should reassure him, and yet he knew that Drizzt was wrong - either because he really believed this or because he wanted to believe it. But Zaknafein was, in some regards, just like any other drow master. Power was made to be abused. It _was_ like him.

But Zaknafein swore that he would never let Drizzt see that side of him again. From now on he would give Drizzt all the tenderness and affection he deserved. He would do everything to hide his pain, his insanity, his anger from Drizzt. He wouldn't hurt him again.

Zaknafein realised that his eyes were burning and moist, and he was all but crying.

"Can I stay with you?" Drizzt whispered suddenly, looking at Zaknafein with wide eyes. These strangely coloured, ever innocent eyes. The Weapon Master flinched and made a step backwards.

"Do you mean ... in my bed? Tonight?" His voice was disbelieving - he might have understood that Drizzt forgave him, but that he wanted him again after Zaknafein had been so violent and rough last time? This had to be a misunderstanding. But Drizzt nodded and smiled at him.

"You always made me feel good, you knew exactly how to make me happy. It was beautiful. Nobody has touched me even half that tenderly for over ten years. I need it ... Please."

Drizzt's voice was so soft, so pure, so innocent, even after everything that must have happened to him at the Academy. His eyes, that had seen so many horrors already, still sparkled with admiration when he looked at his tutor. His father. Zaknafein's heart was racing with pride and elation. He couldn't believe that anyone in the world cared so much about him. Even Jarlaxle, his only friend and lover, had never made Zaknafein feel that way, so overwhelmed by his emotions.

He had wanted to save Drizzt, but right now he felt as if Drizzt's absolution was saving him. He knew now that he wouldn't lose Drizzt, and that made him love him even more than ten years ago. He would do anything to help Drizzt, to help him survive - physically and mentally. The hope that Drizzt would manage to keep the innocence Zaknafein had lost so early was the last thing the desperate Weapon Master was clinging on to.

In that moment he cared more about Drizzt than about himself, as if Drizzt's life was worth more than his own. Zaknafein thought again of Jarlaxle, who had saved him when he had been Drizzt's age. Jarlaxle, who had always been there for him, who had made sure that Zaknafein wouldn't become an empty, cold drow soldier like the others. And yet Zaknafein realised that his love for Drizzt was even stronger than his feelings for Jarlaxle.

Jarlaxle could take care of himself, but Drizzt needed him.

"Zak?" Drizzt's voice made him realise that he had been staring at his son for minutes now. "Do you not want me anymore?" His voice was full of anxiety. "Because ... because others have touched me?"

Zaknafein quickly shook his head, but he didn't trust his voice enough to answer. He pulled Drizzt close again, but this time not only to hug him, but to kiss him.

Drizzt's lips were as soft and smooth as he had remembered them, but a bit more experienced and at the same time shier than years ago, as if he had forgotten how he should behave towards Zaknafein. But as the kiss went on - tongues tenderly circling each other, fingers running through hair and searching for openings to slip under clothing - Drizzt seemed to get more comfortable.

From an expression of trust, of affection, of _love_, which neither of them knew how to put into words, the kiss turned into something more demanding, more passionate. Their relationship was not, had never been purely emotional, and as uncomfortable as Drizzt had become with _vith_ at the Academy he felt the familiar, well-known desire course through his young, hungry body.

They were both panting when their lips parted, from the lack of air as much as from their arousal. Zaknafein drew Drizzt close again, his right arm sneaking around his waist to lead him to his bedchambers. Drizzt leant his head on Zaknafein's shoulder.

Just as years before Zaknafein - at least when he was like this - made him feel safe, protected, taken care off. As if nothing in the world could hurt him as long as Zaknafein held him in his arms. As if nothing in the world could hurt Zaknafein.

Once the door between the training hall and the private rooms was closed Zaknafein slowly started to undress him without saying another word. He took his time, smiling at Drizzt all the time, leaning in to kiss him while his fingers undid buttons, laces, buckles. Zaknafein knelt down to take off Drizzt's boots before he unbuttoned his trousers and slowly pulled them off.

Still on his knees he took in the perfect sight of that beautiful, naked body, more muscular now than ten years ago, marred by more scars.

But his. All his. Others might force Drizzt, but no one but him would ever get this from Drizzt voluntarily.

Zaknafein sighed contently and got up, kissing Drizzt before he quickly undressed himself, hardly helped by the young drow who just stared at him with longing eyes. As soon as his breeches had been discarded Zaknafein wrapped his arms around Drizzt's waist again.

He slowly stepped backwards until his calves touched the bed. He simply sank down on it, pulling Drizzt with him. The young drow hardly even tried to keep his balance on his own, he just flopped down on Zaknafein, trusting him completely.

"I missed you," Drizzt mumbled while he nuzzled Zaknafein's neck. "I often thought of you. I was so angry at you when I heard the others talking about your 'exploits', your cruelty, but sometimes I remembered all those wonderful things you had done to me. I always thought of you when I ..."

Drizzt's voice trailed off, and he blushed in embarrassment.

"When you touched yourself?" Zaknafein asked hopefully. He would have preferred to hear it from Drizzt, but he didn't want to pressure him. He knew that many masters and priestesses did that, forced their victims to admit all sorts of embarrassing, private things, and he didn't want to make Drizzt uncomfortable. The young drow just nodded and looked up at Zaknafein.

"Are you angry about that?"

Zaknafein chuckled, but when Drizzt's eyes widened in shock he quickly kissed him on the hair.

"No, I'm not. I like the idea," he said. "But from now on you won't have to content yourself with memories and dreams."

His hands were roaming over Drizzt's body, finding all those spots again that made Drizzt squirm in delight. Drizzt was returning the caresses carefully, even more tenderly than Zaknafein, and there remained some kind of shy innocence in them.

Drizzt wanted to please him, not out of fear to get punished, but because he really seemed to care about how Zaknafein felt. He rubbed against him, their chests meeting as well as their groins. A helpless whimper escaped Drizzt's lips when Zaknafein licked the tip of his ear and at the same time started to caress Drizzt's thighs.

Drizzt found himself pleading only minutes later, but for once he didn't feel humiliated by his own need. And Zaknafein, no less aroused and definitely not in the mood to tease Drizzt, didn't keep him waiting. He interrupted his caresses to reach for the top drawer of the nightstand and opened it, quickly snatching a vial with oil.

"I won't hurt you," Zaknafein promised, the guilt still gnawing at him. He was almost afraid of himself, of his own desires which could so easily turn into violence. Drizzt smiled and took the vial, slender hands opening it.

"I know you won't. I trust you."

Zaknafein felt as if his heart was going to burst, and if he hadn't been so aroused he might have started to cry. Drizzt took Zaknafein's right hand and poured some oil onto it before he put the open vial on the nightstand. He straddled the older drow and nuzzled against him, his head resting against Zaknafein's neck, legs spread just wide enough to give him access.

Zaknafein moaned in anticipation and let his right hand slide down, slipping one finger in. Drizzt was, to his surprise, perfectly relaxed and just sighed happily. Zaknafein buried his face in Drizzt's hair, breathing in the scent of soap, leather, sweat and something so excitingly sweet that it made him shiver. Drizzt smelt of strength and softness and lust and innocence, just like his body was at the same time smooth and strong, like his movements betrayed shame as much as desire.

Drizzt's skin was slick with sweat by now. He rubbed against Zaknafein and then bucked up, as if he couldn't decide if he wanted to be closer to Zaknafein's groin or to the deliciously intruding finger - fingers, only a few moments later.

Drizzt was squirming, his breathing ragged by now. He enjoyed how Zaknafein took his time, caressing him instead of rushing to his own pleasure. But Drizzt was getting impatient, and to his mind Zaknafein still looked far too calm, although he was sweating as well.

The young drow sat up, sighing a bit at the loss of contact. He reached for the oil again and moistened his hand. He smiled shyly at Zaknafein, not quite sure of himself, but cockiness and impatience overcame his hesitation.

Nimble fingers circled Zaknafein's erection, slicking it with oil, stroking with excruciating slowness. His little manoeuvre was quite successful - Zaknafein groaned and twitched, while his eyes were fluttering shut. Drizzt hesitated again, but then he took a deep breath and lowered himself on Zaknafein's groin, once again torturously slowly. He went at his own pace to adjust to him, to let the painful stretch dissipate before he moved on.

It took Zaknafein all of his will power to lie still instead of thrusting up and thereby hurting Drizzt carelessly. He grabbed the headrest of the bed, helplessly holding on to it, fighting for some control. He slowly opened his eyes again, and what he saw made him shudder in lust. Drizzt straddling him, the black skin glimmering with sweat, his slender body trembling. The flawlessly pretty face was a full of desire, pleasure, rapture even.

"You are so beautiful," Drizzt whispered, his voice filled with lust. His eyes were roaming over Zaknafein's body before they returned to his eyes. Drizzt's fingers drew tender lines on his tutor's strong chest and shoulders, caressing him while he started to move, ever so slowly.

Zaknafein couldn't answer, only stare at Drizzt with an expression close to a faithful's who was seeing an apparition of his god. He almost had a pleading whisper on his lips when Drizzt moved so slowly, but he held himself back - ten years since he had last felt this, ten years of pain and longing, ten years in which he hadn't even hoped to experience such bliss again. It was probably best to make this last as long as possible.

He let go of the headrest and put his hands on Drizzt's hips, feathery light, caressing instead of urging. Still, he was incapable of holding himself back all too long, and after a while he quickly grabbed Drizzt and pushed him on his back to lean over him. Drizzt gasped in surprise until Zaknafein covered his lips with his own, and the loud moan when the Weapon Master thrusted back into him was muffled by their kiss.

Zaknafein's eyes were closed now - as beautiful as Drizzt was, his sight seemed too much of a sensorial impact right now, combined with their mingling moans, with the scent of sweat and oil and lust, with those feelings that made every nerve in his body tingle in overstimulation.

Drizzt all but cried out when he came, his fingers dug into Zaknafein's shoulder while the older drow kept moving, each thrust a small wave of pleasure until the flood washed over him.

Trembling and panting Zaknafein slid out to enable Drizzt to lie down more comfortably before he sank in the younger drow's waiting arms, face against Drizzt's neck. Neither could have said how long they just lay there, gasping for breath, dazed by the blissful afterglow, basking in the other's scent and touch and taste.

"I knew you wouldn't hurt me," Drizzt mumbled after what seemed a peacefully long time. His voice was weak, but filled with not only satisfaction, but true happiness. "I don't care what you did once, I only care about now, and about the future. We will do this again, won't we?"

Drizzt looked up, his eyes suddenly wide with anxiety, but his fear disappeared immediately when Zaknafein kissed him.

"Every night, if you want," Zaknafein promised, conveniently forgetting that Malice demanded his attention in some nights. Drizzt's eyes were filled with adoration and tenderness, and he started to shower Zaknafein's face with kisses.

"Don't you ever leave me, father." He tried to sound demanding, admonishing, but his words came out as a pleading whimper.

"I won't," Zaknafein said and smiled. He believed it. He believed that he had saved Drizzt as well as himself, he believed that the rest of their lives wouldn't be spent alone, but in this beautiful, perfect intimacy - untouched by the horrors of the world they lived in.

When Drizzt left his room later that night Zaknafein did not know that he would never see his son again. He did not know that Malice's daughters would come for him shortly after he had fallen into reverie. He did not know that a sacrificial dagger would be cutting out his still beating heart only an hour after he had last felt Drizzt's lips on his.

But lying on the altar with Malice looming over him, Zaknafein would remember that feeling. He would remember his son's smile. In the pinnacle of four centuries of self-destructive survival Zaknafein felt almost sane again, proud that for once in his life he was doing what he believed was right.


End file.
